


Love the way you hate me (strangelove)

by RoughMoon



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Consent Issues, Dark, Dark Stiles, Episode: s03e20 Echo House, Light BDSM, M/M, Nogitsune Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-14 02:24:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1249228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoughMoon/pseuds/RoughMoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Nogitsune, Stiles can't find the way to forgive himself. He thinks maybe Derek has something that can help him...</p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><p>"What do you think you're doing Derek? Are you trying to kiss me or what? Do you think I'm in love with you? Do you think you're my boyfriend?" Stiles' girlish face is deformed with a sad grin. Derek wonders how something so pretty can be so spent, feel so used…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love the way you hate me (strangelove)

**Author's Note:**

> Consent issues tag because Derek doesn't really want to have this kind of relationship, although he accepts it.
> 
> \-- Spoilers for Season 3b --

_I'm unclean, a libertine_

_And every time you vent your spleen,_

_I seem to lose the power of speech,_

_Your slipping slowly from my reach._

_You grow me like an evergreen,_

_You never see the lonely me at all_

 

_Placebo - Without You I'm Nothing_

 

                                                                     ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Harder!"

Panting, slapping, grunting…

"Harder Derek, much harder!"

Difficult breaths, moans.

"I know you can be stronger, Derek, don't restrain yourself. Common asshole, you can do so much better than this! Aren't you supposed to be strong? Aren't you half animal?"

A whimpering sound, a little cry.

"Show me your fangs wolf! Show me your claws!"

And a huff.

"Stiles..."

"Just fuck me harder Derek! You won't break me, you know you won't! And I wouldn't mind if you do. I told you I want it rough. I told you I want to feel you deeper, much deeper than this! I want you to split me, to open me raw with your cock, to tear my flesh. Don't you hear me, fucker? Is this all you can give to me? Common baby, use your thick cock with me, be good to me…" Stiles voice goes from a high-pitched tone to a suggestive whisper and back to demanding, angry, changing strategies as he goes, trying to get what he wants from Derek.

They're on the floor of Derek's loft, Stiles' arms against the cold floor, dust and little sharp stones scratching his skin and digging on his knees. After a few times, Derek has stopped trying to move them to the bed or at least to the couch. He won't try to cuddle or to give stray caresses when they're finished; no soothing words will come from Stiles' mouth, and he won't accept any from Derek either. Stiles doesn't even shower when he's with Derek; once the action ends he just gets dressed in a hurry and goes.

He never tries to take his pain away anymore. 

When Derek wanted to enter his fingers into Stiles that afternoon, to prepare him, Stiles refused, grunting, quickly removing his hands from his ass.

“Don’t” His voice is deep and his tone definitive.

“Stiles, you have to let me do this! You’re going to bleed, you’ll regret it.” Derek tries to convince himself that he isn’t accepting this. He’s not that kind of person, he shouldn’t be able to do that.

“I said no, I’m not consenting to that. I let you spit on your cock, and that should be enough to calm your conscience.” Stiles is in a hurry, he’s always rushing somewhere these days.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Derek’s voice is broken and he can hear his insecurity in his own words, he doesn’t know how to sound strong, how to gain control over the situation. He wonders how he agreed to be taken here.

Then he hears the answer.

“Fine, just let me go, I’ll find someone else”

Easy, so fucking easy.

So Derek swallows the lump in his throat and does it, does it again, even if he can’t stand it, even if he hates himself after and can’t sleep at night, even if he knows he won’t be able to look anybody in the eye for days because the images in his head don’t stop repeating themselves, once and again.

Today he even finds it difficult to get hard and has to concentrate, has to close his eyes and imagine they’re just pretending to be tough. He has to believe they’re playing filth because they’re getting bored, pretend they’re both enjoying it, or he won’t be able to do it. Only after a while he finds his own rage and dives in lust, being able to penetrate the tight hole with a finally full member, trying to be smooth, biting his lower lip and intently not thinking about how this is being for Stiles, of how it should be instead. He feels Stiles trembling, hears him hissing and whining, sees his smile when he turns his face for a moment to look at Derek’s powerful body behind himself.

Sometimes Derek thinks this will change soon, that Stiles will go back to his pre Nogitsune self and they will be able to have a normal relationship, go to the movies, have dinner, cook together, watch TV, any of the stupid activities he knows normal couples do and that he has never had the opportunity to enjoy. Or if Stiles doesn’t want him as a partner, they could be friends at least, still watch a film side by side or have a burger somewhere. He would go see them play lacrosse and would help Stiles choose a college. Damn, he would even go to his fucking wedding if he invited him! He would always be close, he would gladly be _that_ friend…

But he never indulges for too long in these dreams, or then he won’t be able to face Stiles, the real one, anymore.

So he takes these thoughts away and keeps fucking Stiles like he’s going to run away from him, leaving bruises on his hips, hitting his ass with more strength that he feels capable to have nowadays. Until he finally comes, with a howl, painfully hard, emptying himself inside Stiles and biting the tender flesh between his neck and his shoulder. And that’s what always does it for Stiles, the sharp burn that is like permission to have this temporary pleasure, this little death. Until the next time, until the memories of today have faded and he needs another dose.

The first time that Stiles came to him took Derek by surprise. A good kind of surprise, though, unlike the ones he usually has. He felt happy, almost blissful, when the young boy touched him, when he started to undress and to take Derek’s shirt off. Even if his look was a bit lost, even if he was too thin and frail, or too cold, it was understandable after all that had happened. And if it was only physical contact what he wanted, well, it was a way to start something. Derek would take it and would make it better. He thought maybe they could have something good at the end of all that chaos, something little and private, as intimate as Stiles wanted.

But it soon became clear that this was different, that it was more than sex and also less than it, and that it was dark, painfully dark. And wrong, so, so wrong.

After a while he bitterly realized that Stiles had picked him just because he was alone, because he thought Derek would go along with what Stiles wanted, because he was also damaged and could understand guilt. He could understand it so well…

Nothing really personal about it...

And when he tried to find Stiles' lips with his mouth that first time, his words were a slap in the face; the type of strike that turns your face until your neck hurts and leaves an echo in your mind and a sharp ache in your heart.

"What do you think you're doing Derek? Are you trying to kiss me or what? Do you think I'm in love with you? Do you think you're my boyfriend?" His girlish face was deformed with a sad grin. How can something so pretty be so spent, feel so used…?

Derek’s face immediately closed after hearing that, his lips quickly sealed and refused to reply to the harsh words. He couldn’t look away from Stiles’ liquid eyes, though.

"Sorry Derek, no more teenage dreams for me."

 

                                                                     ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 “Just leave him alone!”

Scott had found him while he was running in the preserve, and charged against him half wolfed out.

“Stay away from him, do you hear me?” He roared, red eyes glowing in the afternoon light.

“Scott, I think this is something between Stiles and me” Derek stopped walking and faced the Alpha. No…, Stiles’ friend.

“What? Are you insane? He’s my best friend, remember?” Scott was out of his mind, and Derek wanted to calm him, to defend himself the same way he did everyday after he woke up.

“Well, he came to me, ok? And I’m trying to help him, I’m…” But Scott cut him off, outraged.

“You sure? You’re trying to help? And how, exactly, are you helping him? Fucking him until he faints? Beating him, leaving bruises all along his body? He doesn’t change in the locker room anymore, he tries to hide it, but I’ve seen the marks. I forced him to show me. And he reeks of you, of sex. Of pain!”

Scott is out of breath, and Derek reminds he was asthmatic before the bite, thinks his body might be going back to old habits when stressed. Just like we all do.

“He couldn’t even walk last Monday. He was limping, you know? He almost couldn’t seat in class, and his pain and discomfort are a constant halo around him. I can’t stand it anymore, it’s driving me crazy. You have to stop Derek, you just have to leave him alone.”

Derek starts to yell now as well, his own frustration arousing after Scott’s words.

“Ok, then maybe you can tell him to leave me alone as well! Why do you think it’s always me trying to ruin your life?” Scott’s face tilts to the left after hearing that. Maybe something different from his initial idea is going on there... He sighs and speaks again.

“Listen, I know you care about him. You pretend to be distant, but I know you, I’ve seen you looking at him. And you stopped Chris before he could kill Stiles. If it wasn’t for you he would be dead now, so don’t tell me you don’t care. Why do you hurt him? How can you do it? I… I just can’t understand it.”

And Derek has to tell someone, he can’t keep all this inside of him, has to share it, although he knows this is going to cause even more pain.

“Because this is what he wants, this is what he’s asking me to do, what he’s been… forcing… me… to do.”

Scott face fells, and he nods after a few silent seconds, slowly accepting the truth.

“I… I see. I know he’s drowning in guilt from what he did, and he still thinks it’s his responsibility, he believes he should have fought it somehow.  But... this is a very bad way to cope, it is insane. You have to stop it, Derek, you have to find the way to stop this, or you will end up hurting him too much. This will go too far and he will get lost. And it’s going to be too late pretty soon.”

He pauses briefly before continuing. There's something else that is clearly not easy to spit out.

“Also, Derek…”

“What?” Derek is eager to acept any ideas, to follow any plans, so he hopes Scott will tell him what to do.

But it will have to be him, after all, because Scott only twists the dagger inside the wound.

“I hate to see him in pain, true, but I also think he’s hurting you worst…”

 

                                                                     ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 “Stiles… Stop Stiles, please, wait.”

Stiles is sucking Derek’s dick like he’s possessed again, desperately, unforgiving. His nails dig into Derek’s thighs, pinning him against the table with a force Derek doesn’t remember Stiles had. Derek knows what’s coming after that, how Stiles will demand him to force his way into him, how he will impale himself if he tries to go slow, how he will take Derek’s hands and will scratch himself, how he will ask to be bitten. Every time a bit more, every day a bit harder and tougher, more violent. And Derek feels something breaking inside of him, like he has suddenly reached a certain point of no return, where his whole being refuses to go on, when it becomes physically impossible.

“Stiles, stop. Stop!” And he takes Stiles' head with his hands and forces him to stand up, to look him straight into his eyes.

“Stop Stiles, please, stop. This has gone too far, I can’t continue. Let’s talk about it, please, I can't go on anymore. Don’t you see you don’t deserve this? We don’t deserve this. You could have something much better, so much better…”

Stiles replies with quick words. Always this pressure, thinks Derek, this urgency. Why? Where are you trying to go, Stiles?

"I prepared a bomb Derek, I severed a high voltage cable and electrocuted innocent people, I fucked without protection a girl who was confined in a mental asylum, I plotted to send you to jail! Don't you think I deserve this? And don't say it wasn't me, don’t say it was the Nogitsune! I was there, my hands did it, my feet took me to those places, my mind planned it! The Nogitsune chose me for a reason, don't you see it Derek? I was the weakest, I'm always the flimsy one. And I need to be strong so that the next time I can fight whatever is coming."

Derek shakes his head, trying to find the words to convince him that this is not a valid reason, that is wrong from the very beginning. He knows Stiles is a very rational person, so he has to use valid arguments. This battle has to be won in Stiles’ field.

"And you think this will make you stronger, really? Dare to tell me you feel stronger now! This is killing me Stiles, and I don't think it's helping you in any real way. Tell me Stiles... What do you want from this? Another victim? More casualties? Think about it, Stiles. You don't have the Nogitsune to blame now...”

But Stiles is still looking at him like he’s convinced by his own canticle of guilt and strength, like a crazy convert. Derek goes on, then, realizing of the sick parallelism with what had happened to him so many years ago.

“Stiles, you… you know my history. You were the one telling me that I shouldn't roll over my guilt, that I had to move on. And what are you doing now? Do you remember who I am, Stiles? You're talking to the king of blame here. I'm the one who had his whole family killed, remember? I’ve already been manipulated. Do you realize what you're doing to me, Stiles?"

They are closer now; Derek feels Stiles’ skin warm and soft under his hands and realizes he has let him take his body inside of his arms. He doesn’t test this though, doesn’t try to tight the hug or to kiss him. He won’t risk it. He's waiting for a reaction that is not coming.

And Derek doesn’t have any more weapons anyway, so he just gives his ultimatum.

"Anyway... I just can't... I can't go on like this Stiles. I'm sorry, but I can't continue with this. I thought I was helping you, but I'm clearly not. And I'll lose my mind if I keep hurting you. I just can't do it anymore."

Stiles is calm, and it doesn’t take him more than a second to respond what Derek already knew he was about to say.

"Ok, it's ok, I guess I understand. Don’t worry, I'll find someone else, another way…"

"No" Derek shuts him off, denies that option, his lips a tight, obstinate thin line.

"I can't stop Derek, I'll kill myself if I stop, don't you see it?" And Stiles’ voice is velvety soft, caressing, for the first time in months. Compassionate. But Derek won’t buy it.

"No. We can try something else..."

And Stiles smiles, and that hurts more than anything else could.

"There’s nothing else, Derek. I need it, I have to feel it, the rest is just numbness and hatred; this is the only thing that calms it. Anything less than this won't be enough."

Derek then takes his head with his hands, thumbs caressing Stiles’ temples. He tries to sound sincere when he speaks, knowing Stiles can’t immediately read his feelings as he speaks. Because he knows he must be stinking of desperation and hurt. But he still manages to sound cool.

"Ok, but... You could... You could take me instead. I'll let you do whatever you want, whatever you need. At least… I will heal..."

He sees Stiles trying to understand, quite shocked.

"Do you mean...?"

He nods.

"I mean whatever, Stiles, anything you need. I just don't want you to go to others."

His heart clenches when Stiles looks at the wall in front of him, starting to accept the possibility.

"Ok. Ok, we could try that. But... Are you sure about it?"

Derek is so sure…

"Yes, I won't let you go to any crappy hole of a bar to get fucked by strangers who don't care about you."

He said that in a rush, not really realizing what he just implied. He hopes Stiles doesn’t get the whole meaning of it.

"And you? Why do you care, Derek? Why do you accept this?"

There’s an easy way out of this, and he’ll take it. It's something Stiles will understand now.

"I was the one who started all of this. I was the one who set everything on fire, the one who left this town unprotected. My mother would have never let these things happen."

And there’s so much more than this, but Derek doesn’t think saying it out loud is going to help them right now. So he stays still and quiet, waiting, watching Stiles’ reaction.

"You're not responsible for this Derek, this is not about you..."

So fucking true…

"No, I know. It's never about me. Just relax now; it's going to be ok Stiles. Trust me..."

And just for one moment Stiles lets Derek cradle his head and press his forefront against his chest. He allows his body to relax into the warm, soft touch of the werewolf and, for a few blessed seconds, Stiles accepts a different kind of comfort.

"Everything is going to be alright..."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, music...
> 
> \- The Police - King of Pain  
> \- Depeche Mode - Strangelove  
> \- Placebo - Without You I'm Nothing
> 
> Also, I know that was strange, but... sometimes weird ideas appear in you mind demanding to be written! So, I just complied.
> 
> I hope you liked it, and THANKS for reading!!
> 
> Any comments, suggestions, corrections, etc... Please tell me! Thanks!


End file.
